My name is Rose Winters, and from the day I was born, I was blessed with the three wordsevery child yearns for... “I love you”.
These were written on a locket given to me by my mother, hung around my neck at birth, justbefore she died. Cos the birth was so traumatic.Growing up alone with my father, each day was a struggle. Even though I constantly fought for his love, he blamed me for my mother’s untimely death and used to put cigarettes out on my bareskin. It hurt, a pain that ran deeper than skin.He hated me and when referring to me in conversation called me the reverse abortion. To myface he called me mother killer. He called me a bitch. He called me a dipshit. He called me a lotof names I have since repressed.From the age of 14, I was put in the psych ward. My father told me it would heal the sickness of my mind. But it didn’t and I remained evil in his mind.Three years on, at the age of 17, I am just trying to fit in at high school, but the more I try, the moreI fail. Everyone knows my sickness, it becomes more apparent every day, and I am avoided likethe plague.Standing at 5’ 9” it’s not even like I can hide away, especially with my burning red hair thatdoesn’t so much fall down my back as spring out my head. Like my hair, my life is just asuntameable. It may come as no surprise to you, but I have never had a boyfriend. Or even somuch as been kissed. I am a Total. Virgin.Feeling alone comes naturally to me, and if there’s one thing in life I excel at, it’s my ability tohide away.Today it’s the trials for the cheerleading team and it’s compulsory to try out. Last year my tamponfell out during a jump, and now they call me Carrie. It was like I’d given birth to my own socialdeath, this little block of bloody cotton, dropped to the floor as if from an unclenched fist, androlled away, a bloody trail that lead me to the beginning of my end. From that day on, I never forgot my spankies again. At least I have lit class straight after. Mr Solace has kind of been like my mentor. I’m... pretty goodat writing and he’s been giving me extra curricular work. I’m so excited to be back working withhim again. Sometimes, and I know this sound strange, but it feels like he’s the only one whocares. He’s like the father I never had. And mother I sorely missed. Even though I never knewher.
Cheerleading trials went horribly. I cracked my coccyx doing a cartwheel when I landed in the lapof the deputy headmaster. He was not amused, but maybe a little aroused, but everyone knowshe’s a total pedo, so like, whatever. My dad said I was a whore and I deserved a broken coccyxlike what I did to my mother, and refused to take me to the hospital. So, once again, I had to doself surgery. Let’s just say, this is not the first time I’ve reconstructed my hymen. Needless to say,I won’t be making the team this year, but, at least that’s the last time I have to go through thattorture.Once again, I made lead tuba in the school band. I’m worried my retainer will come out if I blowtoo hard, and get stuck in the tuba again, but the conductor promised he’d make me a smaller hole.Weirdly, Mr Solace wasn’t in today, which totally bummed, since he’s the only good thing aboutschool, or even my life.We’ve been promised a cover teacher in the meantime, and I’m a bit nervous but, since I’m goodat the subject, hopefully it’ll be okay.